Never Wander
by Tru Eve
Summary: My little claim to Legolas, my one little un-original peice filled with happy fluff, yet balanced with the wonderfully short tempor of the beautiful elf Legolas just happens to be in deep, wonderous love with.


**Never Wander **

by Tru Eve

Yes! My own Legolas, my new character, way before the books, during the ultimate bliss of the Age of Elves. I know, how many of these have you heard before? Not really original, but I'm allowed one un-original piece just for fun, eh?

**Disclaimer**: Unfortunately, all I can say I own is Duinia, although in my heart Legolas will always be mine!

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She ran, her creamy cheeks turning rosy with the cold. Her deep brown locks bounced as she made her way up the stunning marble stair, two at a time. She looked rather out of place, her leggings and over dress dirty and ripped here and there, her beautiful, shining face smudged with dirt, running up the grand stair of Rivendell like a young maid. 

"Woah!" Came a commanding shout from below her, "Where, in Illu'vatar's name are you going dressed like that? No, more importantly… _How_ did you get dressed like that?" It was Elrohir. He wasn't _her_ brother, why couldn't go pick on his sister. His _real_ sister. Where was Arwen, anyway?

"I went riding." She replied, as if it explained everything. It did, actually. "Do you know where your sister is? I must speak with her."

"She's getting ready for King Thranduil and Prince Legolas' visit, as you should be doing as well, Duinia." He checked her appearance again reproachfully

"Yes, _mother_" She half snarled. _Why? Why her?_ When he just smirked at her from the bottom of the stair and went along his way, she shook her head and continued the climb to her room. If there was one thing Duinia had learned from her years in Rivendell, it was how to make Elrohir and his brother, Elladan, silent.

She rushed to her room, shed her soiled clothes and found a bath already drawn. _Alright, there are always wonderful benefits to be treated royally_, she noted. It had been over a century ago when she had first appeared on King Elrond's doorstep, orphaned, alone, and with only one possession besides the clothes on her back: a letter from her mother with one sentence scrawled in ancient Elvish: "_Rivendell of Elves_"

Her years here had been the greatest she'd ever known since her mother had died to a human's blade. Her heart was still bruised by that memory, as well it should be. A century was far from enough time to forget what had happened that night. Arwen and herself and become strong friends within years, and very quickly she became aware that when Arwen had adopted her, Arwen's family had also. She was still suffering from that which she had noticed too late.

Pushing those thoughts from her mind, she rose from her bath, stopping to brush on some of the lavender oils that Arwen must have left for her. She smiled idly to herself as she admired her reflection… _Let them cringe_.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

The door to Arwen's suite burst open and her friend posed dramatically, "What do you think?" Duinia asked from the doorway. The dress was long and sculpted perfectly to match her shape, while not revealing too much. It was white and red and black all melded together into a material that slipped across her skin like liquid, framed by draping bells at the end of each sleeve and a V neckline that showed only enough to attract any male's attention… and hold it. Her brown, gentle curls were kept at bay only by a shining golden head piece that shown out against her porcelain skin, her face paint only accenting the beauty that was already there.

Arwen raised an eyebrow, adjusting the neckline of her own stunning blue gown. "Who was it, and what'd they do?" She asked idly, curious only because it would mean that their entrance would be the highlight of the evening.

Duinia smiled, taking her query as a compliment in its own right. "Elrohir, and he decided to play the older brother just when my joyful ride had ended." She gently draped herself over a chair, careful not to muss anything.

Arwen nodded, she knew the feeling. With a graceful flourish, she pinned up her raven locks and turned to her friend, "Just be wary that father does not take it as an appearance only to please Prince Legolas. His approval or disapproval would be equally troubling."

Duinia considered this slowly before smiling coyly, "Whose approval do you mean, friend? Our good King, or our dashing Prince?"

Arwen hid her smirk and disappeared into her bedroom, appearing again with two blue slippers to match her gown, emotions again controlled.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Arwen had descended down the grand stair perhaps half an hour ago. Duinia usually let her friend bask for perhaps 10 minutes and then allowed her another 10 to begin mingling, but tonight she had waited longer, tonight she wished only to remind both her adopted brothers and father that she was a grown woman, and not related to them in the slightest, as well as call upon all their protective instincts and temper. Even they would never disrespect her in public, especially not by calling attention to her appearance. They were still trying to stifle the rumor that she and Elladan were lovers.

But Duinia had never been known for her patience. Carefully, she began her descent, waiting until she was in view of the foyer before looking up. There was only one man in the foyer, and it was neither Elladan nor Elrohir, it wasn't even Elrond. "Legolas?" She hastened her pace, moving beside him. "Where has everyone gone?"

"Patio," He replied gently, brushing a glowing blonde strand from his handsomely shaped face. He seemed truthfully pleased to see her, although his sea-blue eyes showed his worry, "Elrohir said you wished to speak with me?"

Duinia felt a knot tighten in her throat, and she had to swallow it down. _So you've finally discovered my strategy. Touché brother, touché. _She took a long breath and nodded, "Ah… well, yes. That's right." She avoided his intense gaze, "You'll be staying more than the usual five days, correct?" When he nodded, she continued, "I was wondering, or rather, I was hoping you'd assist me with my archery… my aim has been fraying, and nothing any Elf here has done has changed the issue. I assumed that if anyone could aid me, it would be you." It was the truth, she had meant to ask him to help her, and she was glad for it. Duinia could never have dealt with the guilt if she had lied to a friend as dear to her as Legolas.

He smiled, showing visible relief as he began to laugh gently, adjusting his formal white tunic.

Duinia paused and looked at him, somewhat annoyed. When the laughter continued she crossed her arms across chest and her deep purple eyes sparked with dangerous fire, "What exactly is so funny, friend?' She asked coldly.

Legolas turned to her and smiled, putting an arm around her shoulders and jostling her slightly to shake out her annoyance, "Nothing dear one, you just had me worried that it was something far more serious."

She feigned shock and anger, "And what, my Prince, do you consider more serious than my current problem?"

Apparently, he wasn't prepared to answer that, as his eyes immediately began to search the intricately detailed ceiling above them. Her continued silence, however, told him that she wasn't letting him off the hook. "Ah… well…" He glanced at her, careful to avoid those treacherous eyes of hers, "I was afraid it was more along the lines of… ah, you-finding-a-lover" His last words fell out too fast into a messy pile.

Duinia blinked as her mind quickly processed this new information, when that fleeting moment was up; however, she let out an annoyed sigh. "Not you too…" her companion glanced up sharply, wondering if- "How many older brothers do I get?" She turned to him and touched his cheek gently, assuring him through actions that she wasn't resenting him in the slightest for his distress, "I appreciate the concern, but the last thing I desire is another overprotective male."

He quietly excused himself rather promptly after that exchange, on the grounds that he should see to his father, leaving Duinia alone in the foyer. Her solitude didn't last long, however, for as she was preparing herself to enter out onto the patio, Elrohir entered, a smug grin on his face. "Did you enjoy your entrance tonight, dear sister?"

"It was rather exhilarating," She countered, too quickly to catch his referral to her as 'sister'.

He bowed his head respectfully, his face coming up again wiped clean of anything but neutral curiosity. The smirk never left his eyes, however. "And what did you and Prince Legolas speak about?"

"I asked him to help me through my newest archery troubles."

He was smirking again, "So that_ was_ your arrow that flew threw my window yesterday evening, wasn't it?"

"Even my aim isn't that poor, Elrohir." She snapped, attempting to slip past him out onto the patio.

He stopped her gently, a hand on her shoulder. When she paused, but didn't turn around, he sighed, "Is that all you spoke of?"

"Yes." He let her go, and she put on a warm smile and gracefully made her way out onto the patio, greeting old friends all through out the gathering.

Elrohir watched her silently and sighed, shaking his head. _For such a cunning woman, I'd have thought she'd be quicker to catch on than this. _What had it been? 50 years? 80? Since the first time his friend had set eyes on his young sister's best friend, his now adopted sister? Probably. For such a ferocious, talented fighter, Legolas was a coward with women, completely oblivious to the reactions his looks, charm and words created among the fairer gender. This was going to take more pushing than he thought.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Why couldn't he just tell her? The two of them were the closest friends since the day they'd met; they could tell each other anything… except this. His father had pushed for a marriage with Arwen, he'd refused. His father had pushed for an arrangement with a beautiful, young elf, daughter of one of his father's dearest friends, he'd refused. It wasn't that his dear father wished an arranged marriage for his son, but, Legolas guessed, he was simply trying to discover who held his son's fancy so, through a complex game of trial and error that kept throwing him the losing stones.

What made him sadder was the thought that his father would never guess that it was the mischievous, fiery brunette, herself. It didn't even seem like a plausible option to his own father. How could anything ev- "Prince, if you're out here brooding like a helpless human, I offer you no mercy." Legolas turned and faced Elladan slowly, smiling dangerously to his friend.

"Me? Brood? You're mistaken, friend. For what, I ask, would I brood for?" He touched the sword sheathed at his hip lightly, issuing a full challenge.

Elladan spread his arms, revealing how devoid his person was of any sort of weapon, "Ease up, Prince. Just thought I'd come check on the victim after yet _another_ personal meeting with my dear sister leads to absolutely nothing."

Legolas made a soft sound of feigned disgust and turned back out into the night, "I can't do it, friend. She's like a bright and shining star. I can stare until my eyes blear, and she becomes clear," He held up two fingers in front of him, aligning them with a star until it seemed he held it between them, "And then… I realize how hopeless I am at ever reaching that far." His fingers pressed together, revealing the truth behind the illusion: the star was still miles away.

Elladan sighed and came to stand beside his friend. "Women are like that. Give it time." Sensing the pain in Legolas' subtle shift, he quickly added, "_More_ time. If this is right, she'll soon enough realize it on her own. Pushing Duinia never got a man anywhere, friend"

"Yes," Legolas said soflty, but his gaze was still fixed on that one star just out of his reach.

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Right, hope you like . Hope you tell me you like too. Reviews just make my day. 


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